Update 003
Droman
𐤊𐤍𐤏𐤍
Update 003: A Winter Among The Enemy
In the end, you could do little more than accept, defeated and resigned as you were.
"Yes," you'd swore to Thorongil the Burner that day "For your protection and security this winter, I will ride with you south to the Daen and the Drug who live beyond the heartlands. I will serve you as you need, in this bid to forge peace between them and your Straw-Heads."
"And you will cause no trouble this winter, and promise to seek me out should trouble arise?"
"... I promise."
And that had been that, however very much the words had stuck in your throat. At his request the Straw-Heads had relinquished your possessions, chiefly being clothes long since turned to rags. Only at the return of your axe did they balk, some among them looking upon it with greedy eyes, while others spoke to the madness of trusting a Daeni among them with an axe.
Foolish or wise, you could not say. Either way, it didn't matter.
Not when it came to your father's axe.
In the end, Thorongil had won them over again, working his reasonable, simple charms to make them give way. Your axe was returned, so it was clear by their greedy looks that the matter would not be ended here.
"Remember," said Thorongil had said to you in leaving the armory "You are to come to me if there is trouble."
--
And so your days passed, spent in relative comfort among the Straw-Heads in their village. Most of your time was spent within the confines of the village, kept an eye on by passing Straw-Head guards within the small quarters apportioned for you and Thorongil both. You were granted some time beyond the confines of your home each day (little though it mattered in the biting cold), while remaining inside for the remainder. Food would be brought from the kitchens of which ever family was given the burden, and with Thorongil himself away more often than not on rangings, you found yourself left to your own devices.
During this time, you did as you often did when left alone. Which meant that you...
Choose One:
[] Did nothing, nothing but simply bide your time until Thorongil returned. (Effects: None)
[] Recalled the oral histories and songs of Dunharrow, as taught to you by your mother. You even sung a few, to keep strong the memories of distant home and kin. (Effect: Adds Budding Balladeer to Skills, Adds Melancholy to Traits)
[] Spending your time accounting anything of worth in your accommodations. Just in case you needed to run. (Effects: Add Amateur Thief to Skills, Adds Impish to Traits)
[] Training with your father's axe, remembering the words of wisdom he would give when he practiced with you. (Effects: Add Combat Awareness (Mediocre) to Skills, Adds Headstrong to Traits)
--
Still, even you could not stay alone and away from the entirety of the village around you. On one occasion or another, you dared walk further and further away from your accommodations, wandering in the snowy grounds of the settlement. Despite the glares it offered you, you kept your axe with you at all times, not trusting the security of your quarters against the local populace. Wandering around as you do, you hardly attract much in the way of attention besides glares or the occasional foul remark from the unintelligible Straw-Heads.
It's that sort of accumulative complacency that gets you caught unawares, as one day you find yourself running into the Straw-Head called Bran.
"So it is Thorongil's little pet hillrat," said the tall Straw-Head with a frown as he spotted you, with him two other men dressed in fine clothes "Come sulking out of his rat hole for once."
"And you will cause no trouble this winter, and promise to seek me out should trouble arise?"
"... I promise."
"Master Bran," you say as lowly and carefully as you dare, inclining your downwards minutely "Good day."
"Good day," the well-dressed warrior echoes with a scoff "Just what is a good day for a Dunlending, I wonder? A few chickens stolen from one of our farms? A whole herd taken, with a village left to starve?"
"I couldn't say," you said as politely as you could "For I know not a Dunlending. Do you perhaps mean the Daeni?"
The last you say as stiffly as you manage, enunciation of the singular word as painful as you could have it.
"I meant what I meant," said Bran as his frown deepened at the sight of your axe "Though another word for Dunlending is thief, boy. You'd ought to know that, holding stolen goods as you are."
"The axe is mine," you say through gritted teeth "As it was my father's and his father before him. Bought from Dwarfish folk when food was dearer to them than metal."
"A pity there's not a dwarf around who could attest to that."
"Perhaps. I could imagine how difficult it would be to hear their testimony as to the truth of my words, moreso if they started first on the matter of Scatha's scavenging."
... Perhaps a step too far, given by the glower on Bran's face.
He looks to take a step before you, but thinks better of it and shakes his head.
You owe wergild to every man and woman in my uncle's lands," said the Straw-Head with a frown "And Thorongil's servant or no, I've a mind to make you pay it with that axe of yours."
"And which man or woman decides which pieces all the rest get to have of the actual axe? Since weregild must be payed equally?"
"Blood or coin are the customary payments," piped up one of the men besides Bran as the other laughed a little "And if you do not have coin, then the axe must suffice. And if not the axe, then perhaps your blood will needs be had."
"I've little of either to share," you say as you try to hold your tongue in check "And the axe is not up for discussion. Your taken goods were returned to you when you killed Cadoc, were they not?"
"Most," said Bran with a glower "But not all. No doubt the rest you ate, or traded off to the rest of your miserable people. I can imagine some of your harridan women did their best to hide what goods they could about their person."
"Then take it up with them," you said as your frustration showed true "Else-wise you will find yourself bashing that thick head against a wall of your own making, Forgoil."
--
After that you did your best to stay away, not even bringing up the encounter to Thorongil upon his next return. As much as the man deigned to direct you and offer you his aegis, you were not inclined to trust the Burner just yet. The man had secured you for his own goals after all, and not for the mere concern of your well-being.
Still, no further incidents occurred through the winter, not even as the snows began to melt to mark the coming of spring. All in all you had kept yourself quiet and unnoticed as could be, all to spare you further grief from those horse-loving whoresons.
Still...
You were leaving soon, and it stings to leave as if a beaten dog, however healthy they might have left you. Suffice it to say... you'd rather leave on your own terms.
Choose One:
[] Diplomatic - However much it stinks in your craw, Bran's uncle did not need to give leeway to Thorongil, nor shelter you despite his own family's outrage. You will thank him directly before leaving, and ask what favour he might ask of you. If it is in your power, you will try to see it done. Your father taught you that much, before he died.
[] First Blood - You'll challenge Bran to a first blood duel, to give the Straw-head warrior his fill of your blood and a humiliation to crow over. It'll stick in your craw, but you're at least decade younger and it'd be a pitiful victory to crow over, plus you could always come back later when he's old and decrepit and kill him. Always remember to kick them while they're down, your uncle used to say.
[] Quietly - Eh. Thorongil asked you to not make waves, and either of those options would probably cause a stir should you ever come back.
